Silver Lights
by Bouncer
Summary: Um...a Redwall story with a Majora's Maskish twist. Not a crossover, just a borrowing of plot. Please read and review.
1. Days and Nights

Snow drifted down from the dark clouds in the morning sky. Small rays of light poked through here and there, but nothing large enough to be called day. Little of the light penetrated to the grounds beneath the leafy tops of the trees. The cold air was still. It gave an air to the forest that changed its normal happiness and joy. The snow piled on the tops of the trees, leaving the ground noticeably clear. A small, worn path wove its way through the trees towards the river to the north. It was on this path that the otter walked.   
  
The otter was young and stout. His body build was small and thick, but the thickness was of hard muscle and little fat. Most other otters were at least a head and a half taller than him, but this otter paid no mind. He was dressed in a thick white shirt and black breeches. A brown cloak topped the figure. In one paw was an unstrung bow, doubling as a walking stick, nearly as tall as the otter himself. Around that wrist was the bowstring. The other paw rested on a quiver that held several ends worth of arrows. It was strapped around his shoulder. On his belt hung several sheathed daggers and a few bulging pouches. It was clear that this otter was well taught in the use of his few weapons. Around his neck was a silver pendant with a profile of a female otter scratched into it.  
  
This was Perch Thistle, hero of the Eastern River Otter Clan.  
  
His deeds in the past had made him a hero, but he had left it all, in search of a friend. So he had left it all to come west, carrying only what he had with him. The otter picked his way through the dense foilage breaking through the hard-packed dirt of the path.   
  
Perch was unaware of the thief following him in the trees. It was an equally young pickpocket. The squirrel had spotted he otter a while back, and had taken to the trees following him. The young thief had immediately spotted the heavy silver pendant as a valuable. As the otter stopped to take a rest, the squirrel took his chance. He grabbed a long rod of metal that he carried with him and silently leapt out of the tree.  
  
Perch had no warning of the long rod before it hit him. The otter collapsed.  
  
The pickpocket snickered and immediately grabbed for the pendant. But as soon as he had lifted it off of the otter's neck, the otter stirred. The squirrel hastened his efforts, seeing the concussion wearing off. He had only enough time to grab a dagger before the otter's eyes snapped open.   
  
The squirrel immediately jumped back and leapt into the trees. Perch hastened to string his bow and fix an arrow to it. Seeing the squirrel leap off, he held the arrow to the bow and sprinted off along the path. Perch came to the end of the path and jumped into the foilage. He saw the squirrel leap out of the trees and bound up ahead out of the otter's sight.   
  
Growling, Perch sped up his pace, but immediately skidded, trying to slow down. He was at the edge of a cliff. His footpaws were steady barely inches from the edge.   
  
With a rumble, the ground gave below him, and the chunk of land he stood on was sliding down the cliff. The last thing he remembered seeing was the squirrel's laughing face before he blacked out.   
  
  
***  
  
  
Perch's eyes snapped open. He sat up and rubbed his head. He was scratching his neck when he realized that his pendant was gone. His sole reminder of his long lost mate, Flow. Then all that had happened that day came rushing back. The walk, the thief, the fall...Perch shook his head and slowly stood up. He was standing in the middle of a dirt road. Forest grew on either side of the road, all of the trees standing in their bare winter glory.   
  
A bell rung off to the north. A town! he thought, and struck off towards the noise. After fifteen minutes of half-walking, half-running, Perch saw a pinkish-orange tower in the distance. It was topped by slick brown slates. Perch picked up his pace until he was running. After another quarter of an hour, the stout otter was at a set of tall wooden doors set into the walls of a great sandstone abbey.  
  
He rapped on the doors with his bow stave. The otter shivered as he waited for somebeast to open the door. After a minute, he rapped again.  
  
"Who be there?" a loud, barking voice shouted.  
  
"'Tis I, Perch Thistle, wanderer!" Perch yelled back.  
  
The voice considered this for a moment. "All right, matey, welcome to Redwall Abbey, peaceful home of the Redwall Order!"  
  
Perch shivered again as the doors opened, then quickly stepped through. A wonderful sight greeted him. Many youngbeasts frolicked in the snow; youngbeasts of all ages, sizes, and species. A pair of young mice and a hedgehog skated on a frozen lake, and two moles dug tunnels in the snowbanks. A large female badger, sitting on an upturned wheelbarrel, watched them all. A brawny otter, much taller than Perch, hoisted blocks of ice and carried them into the Abbey itself.   
  
The Abbey was even more wondrous than the grounds that he had just taken in. The building was ancient, hundreds of seasons old. A large entrance hall was protruding from the main chunk of the Abbey, at least five stories tall. A belltower stood in one corner of the entrance hall and the main abbey. An old mouse, garbed in a long elegant green habit, strode out of the main doors and out onto the path in front of Perch.  
  
"Welcome, traveler, I am Abbot Dromin, Father of Redwall Abbey. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"  
  
"Certainly, Father. My name is Perch Thistle. I come from the Eastern River Otter Clan, Eroc," Perch replied.  
  
"May I interest you to dinner, young one?" the aged mouse asked.  
  
Nodding politely, Perch smiled. "Of course."  
  
The pair walked into the Abbey, followed by all of the youngsters and other beasts who had been outside. The Abbot led Perch into a vast room with set tables and cooks bustling around to finishing preparing for dinner.  
  
Perch sat down at a table, and immediately was surrounded by young Dibbuns, as the Abbot called them.   
  
Perch laughed and answered all of the bombarding questions that hit him from all of the Dibbuns as he was eating dinner. The food was delicious. The main course was some sort of fried and breaded fish, with potatoes, dried apples, and bread on the side. A goblet of October Ale stood next to a simple glass of water. The food was filling and rich, but Perch found some way to take in the meadowcream cake dessert. He patted his stomach contentedly.   
  
Shortly after, the Abbot stood and called out, "Redwallers, all of you are dismissed except the following: Skipper, Treejump, Moonspar, Sapling, Stream, Bristle, Foremole, and Spikk. Also, our guest tonight is welcome to stay. Goodnight, Redwallers!"   
  
There was an immediate roar and a bustle to leave the hall and head upstairs to the dormitories. Perch rose and picked his way up to the Abbot's table. The various Redwallers, two otters, two squirrels, a mouse, one mole, and two hedgehogs, that had been called were gathered around the Abbot.   
  
"Yes, Father?" the mouse asked.  
  
"Yes. I have called you all, the warriors of Redwall, because I have something to tell you. Last night, I had a dream of Martin the Warrior, our Abbey's founder. He told me to welcome the wanderer, for he will help the Abbey by leaving. I did not remember this until I saw Perch, and then it was that I knew he was the Wanderer. Martin told me a poem:  
  
  
Welcome the wanderer, for he will do you good  
When the threat calls, he'll do what no other could  
Set him off out to the winds, north, south, east, and west  
He'll gather faithful followers and let the Abbey rest.  
  
  
All Perch could do was blink. 


	2. Journey South

Perch was entirely baffled. Some spirit named Martin had spoken to the old Abbot in a dream, and now Perch had to go off to gather helpers to stop a threat? Perch shook his head and blinked again.  
  
After considering for another moment or two, Perch nodded resolutely, and said, "I will go, Father."   
  
"Thank you, my son. My cooks will prepare a pack for you, and you will be off."  
  
Perch nodded, then asked, "Which way shall I go?"   
  
"Wherever your heart desires."  
  
***  
  
An hour later, Perch stood outside the Abbey in a foot of snow. A pack was on his back, containing travel food, fire starters, clothes, arrows, and a throwing knife. He had slung a canteen over a shoulder, and filled it to the brim with ice cold water from under the ice of the pond. His eyes took in the Abbey once more, then turned towards the gates as he walked out. The Dibbuns yelled farewells to him as the otter waved back. Finally, the gates closed. He was out of Redwall.  
  
The road he was on went due north and due south. He took the Abbot's words into mind: "Wherever your heart desires." Perch picked out an arrow, closed his eyes, and threw it up with all his might. It came back down with a clatter pointing south on the road. Perch nodded, picked it up, and struck out south.  
  
After nary an hour, darkness had settled and the wind was colder than ever. It had started snowing again. Perch shivered, and picked out a large bank of snow. Unhooking his pack, he set it on the ground and flexed his arm muscles. He looked around, and walked over to a tall, dead oak tree. Needing a shovel of some sort, he pried off a large chunk of bark, and took it in hand.   
  
He went to work on the snow bank. After ten minutes of hard digging and packing, he had a suitably sized cave to curl up in. It was remarkably warmer, sheltering him from the wind. He dug for another quarter of an hour, and sat down inside and amused himself by drawing with a stick on the walls of the cave until he fell to sleep.   
  
***  
  
When he woke up the next morning, the forest was dead silent. Perch wasn't cold at all, in fact, he was a bit hot. The sun was up and when Perch poked his head out the cave's opening, he was blinded by the reflection of light of an ice storm.   
  
The otter crawled out of the cave, and stood up. He was a bit wobbly, then a bit slippy, but as soon as he was steady, he took a look around. Everything was covered in a shining layer of ice. It was as if it had rained glass the night before. Perch took a look at his cave. The storm had made the cave twice as strong and insulating. No wonder he was so warm that morning.   
  
He rolled his neck and crawled back into the cave, slouching against the walls. Perch grabbed his pack and opened it, looking for some food. The Redwaller cooks had packed a rather creative winter travel food. It was a hollowed out roll of bread, half-filled with a powder of bread, dried vegetables, and bits of fish. Perch was baffled on how to eat it, until a bit of snow flaked off from the roof and fell in the roll, then it clicked. Perch scooped some snow from the bottom of his grotto and packed into roll, then huddled over it. After a few moments, the snow had melted and made the powder a thick, mushy porridge.   
  
Perch dug through his pack and found a spoon. He eagerly dug into the meal. It was delicious, despite its rugged look. After he was finished, he ate the roll and packed up the spoon. The otter crawled out of the grotto and hefted his pack and grabbed his bow. The way was much harder now, being on a solid slab of ice. After his fourth fall, Perch carefully crawled over to an elm tree, and pried off two large chunks of bark. He cut thick slivers of the bark of a nearby river birch, and tied the two chunks aroudn his footpaws. He tried it out, and it was perfect.   
  
After a few hours of hard going, Perch noticed a change in the trees. They became thinner and shorter, and the ground noticeably dipped due to the lack of snow beneath the ice. All signs pointed towards a river swamp, and he knew it when he saw the shrews.   
  
***  
  
Before the short otter stood seven shrews. They were all just as short as Perch, if not shorter. All of them had short, stiff fur, of varying colors. Two were a light gray, one was dark gray, one was a mix of both grays and black, and the other three were a brownish gray. They each held a small rapier, and looked very much as if they knew how to use it. A headband was tied just above their eyes, and their only other piece of clothing was a red kilt. Their yellow eyes lacked emotion and stared coldly at the otter.  
  
"Hello, I'm Perch Thistle of the Eastern River Otter Clan, or Eroc. I've come from Redwall to gather help for a coming threat."  
  
One of the shrews, the darkish gray one, stepped forward and snarled. "You won't be gatherin' no help 'round here! Yore comin' with me!"   
  
Startled, Perch opened his mouth to say something, but the shrew was on him in a flash. The rapier blade was a hair away from the otter's throat. Perch closed his mouth rather abruptly.  
  
The other six gathered around the otter in a escort - an unfriendly one at that. One of the brownish ones stepped forward, and with a growl said, "Gimme the weapons, wetback!"   
  
Perch clenched his teeth and gave up his quiver, bow, and knives to the hostile shrew. "Do you want the bowstring?" he asked.  
  
"No, you can keep yore li'l piece o' string, streampaw!" The shrew hoisted them up and walked back to his position. The group moved forward and deeper into the swamp.  
  
---------  
  
Yup, I made up a river swamp. It's a flat lowland with short thin trees and lots of lakes, ponds, streams, and rivers.   
  
More comin' later! Please review! 


End file.
